Read Online The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters by Baku Yumemakura - Free Book Online
Authors: Baku Yumemakura
Ads: Link
Biku’s dazzling features, impressive like a peacock with its tail spread open. He was momentarily taken aback.
“Are you a fucking woman?”
“Would you like to rape me too?” A smile graced Biku’s red lips. The voice that emerged was obviously a man’s. Ishida was still sprawled on the grass, clutching his stomach from Hiroshi’s repeated attacks. He looked up at Biku. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose.
“Go to the girl’s side,” Biku ordered. Ishida got up and stumbled his way next to Emi. Yajima pulled his pants up and shuffled toward Hiroshi. “So, you decided to get in our way,” he said.
“Something like that. You’re a bit quicker on the uptake than your friend here.”
Hiroshi flushed red. “You want to fuck with me?” he growled in a deep voice. All signs of hesitation had vanished.
“So, you noticed,” Biku derided.
“Motherfucker!” Hiroshi yelled. He squatted suddenly, reaching for the knife still lying on the grass.
Biku brought his mountain boot slamming down, crushing the knife and hand together. Hiroshi wailed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Yajima was next to Biku in a flash. Biku tipped his head to one side, easily avoiding Yajima’s fist. Yajima was thrown completely off balance.
“Fucker!” Yajima threw a flurry of punches and kicks; Biku eluded them all. Dodging with his upper body, he pivoted his right foot on Hiroshi’s hand just enough to cause all of Yajima’s attacks to miss. Biku’s movements were a lesson in economy. Each time he spun, Hiroshi would cry out as Biku’s boot cut deeper into the back of his hand. The pain must have been considerable; his face was contorted in torment. Biku had never expected them to just give up on the girl, regardless of what he said, so he had readied himself for a fight. The two he was engaged with were not going to be a problem. Provided they did not try to run, they would be easy enough to deal with. The only unknown factor was the one that remained. Iba was doing nothing to help his friends despite their being obviously outclassed. He just stood there, his reptile-like eyes trained on Biku.
“Are you just going to watch?” Biku asked, bringing his eyes to meet Iba’s gaze. Yajima’s attacks caused him no more hassle than a boisterous puppy.
“They started it,” Iba replied coolly.
“Iba.” Yajima looked over at him. He was breathing heavily, already gasping for air. Biku pulled his foot away. Hiroshi rushed to grab the knife with his other hand, stumbling backward. He stood, eyes alight with hatred. Biku’s boot was printed on the back of his hand. The skin was torn and bloody.
Biku strolled toward him. He could have been walking up to a vending machine to buy a can of soda, heedless, like the wind. Biku was on Hiroshi before he even had time to react.
“Cocksucker!” Hiroshi exploded into motion slicing the mountain knife up in front of him. The speed was dazzling.
Biku’s response was, in contrast, almost disappointingly slight. He shifted his right leg to the back and caught Hiroshi’s left arm, and the knife that had grazed the air before him, in his right hand. There was a deep pop as the knife fell from Hiroshi’s hand. His left arm hung limp, visibly longer than his right. He grabbed his arm and screamed. Biku had cleanly dislocated the man’s shoulder.
Yajima barked, “What the fuck have you--”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Iba muttered, breaking his silence.
He walked up to Hiroshi. The man had gone pale, oily drops of sweat bristled across his forehead. Iba took hold of Hiroshi’s dislocated arm from behind. He pulled. There was another pop as Hiroshi’s arm snapped back into the joint.
“Fuck you!” Hiroshi’s voice was shrill like a bird. Color began returning to his face.
Iba raised a hand to recommend he stop. “That’s enough. You might not get away with a dislocated shoulder next time. I can’t fix broken bones.”
“I don’t particularly wish to
“Are you a fucking woman?”
“Would you like to rape me too?” A smile graced Biku’s red lips. The voice that emerged was obviously a man’s. Ishida was still sprawled on the grass, clutching his stomach from Hiroshi’s repeated attacks. He looked up at Biku. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose.
“Go to the girl’s side,” Biku ordered. Ishida got up and stumbled his way next to Emi. Yajima pulled his pants up and shuffled toward Hiroshi. “So, you decided to get in our way,” he said.
“Something like that. You’re a bit quicker on the uptake than your friend here.”
Hiroshi flushed red. “You want to fuck with me?” he growled in a deep voice. All signs of hesitation had vanished.
“So, you noticed,” Biku derided.
“Motherfucker!” Hiroshi yelled. He squatted suddenly, reaching for the knife still lying on the grass.
Biku brought his mountain boot slamming down, crushing the knife and hand together. Hiroshi wailed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Yajima was next to Biku in a flash. Biku tipped his head to one side, easily avoiding Yajima’s fist. Yajima was thrown completely off balance.
“Fucker!” Yajima threw a flurry of punches and kicks; Biku eluded them all. Dodging with his upper body, he pivoted his right foot on Hiroshi’s hand just enough to cause all of Yajima’s attacks to miss. Biku’s movements were a lesson in economy. Each time he spun, Hiroshi would cry out as Biku’s boot cut deeper into the back of his hand. The pain must have been considerable; his face was contorted in torment. Biku had never expected them to just give up on the girl, regardless of what he said, so he had readied himself for a fight. The two he was engaged with were not going to be a problem. Provided they did not try to run, they would be easy enough to deal with. The only unknown factor was the one that remained. Iba was doing nothing to help his friends despite their being obviously outclassed. He just stood there, his reptile-like eyes trained on Biku.
“Are you just going to watch?” Biku asked, bringing his eyes to meet Iba’s gaze. Yajima’s attacks caused him no more hassle than a boisterous puppy.
“They started it,” Iba replied coolly.
“Iba.” Yajima looked over at him. He was breathing heavily, already gasping for air. Biku pulled his foot away. Hiroshi rushed to grab the knife with his other hand, stumbling backward. He stood, eyes alight with hatred. Biku’s boot was printed on the back of his hand. The skin was torn and bloody.
Biku strolled toward him. He could have been walking up to a vending machine to buy a can of soda, heedless, like the wind. Biku was on Hiroshi before he even had time to react.
“Cocksucker!” Hiroshi exploded into motion slicing the mountain knife up in front of him. The speed was dazzling.
Biku’s response was, in contrast, almost disappointingly slight. He shifted his right leg to the back and caught Hiroshi’s left arm, and the knife that had grazed the air before him, in his right hand. There was a deep pop as the knife fell from Hiroshi’s hand. His left arm hung limp, visibly longer than his right. He grabbed his arm and screamed. Biku had cleanly dislocated the man’s shoulder.
Yajima barked, “What the fuck have you--”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Iba muttered, breaking his silence.
He walked up to Hiroshi. The man had gone pale, oily drops of sweat bristled across his forehead. Iba took hold of Hiroshi’s dislocated arm from behind. He pulled. There was another pop as Hiroshi’s arm snapped back into the joint.
“Fuck you!” Hiroshi’s voice was shrill like a bird. Color began returning to his face.
Iba raised a hand to recommend he stop. “That’s enough. You might not get away with a dislocated shoulder next time. I can’t fix broken bones.”
“I don’t particularly wish to
Similar Books
